


Somethin' Kinda Crazy

by moonprism



Series: Don't U Wait No More [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Restaurant, Awkward Crush, Friendship, Johnny is a wreck!, M/M, No Plot/Plotless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-27 16:54:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8409364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonprism/pseuds/moonprism
Summary: Johnny works at Panera Bread, and it's always absolutely a disaster.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [devileye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/devileye/gifts).



> hiii. new to nct ficdom (but not nct) so i'm really, really nervous. i've wanted to write for nct for a while, but i've never been able to think of a plot. T__T but ive been talking about nct more and more with one of my best friends and i asked what i should write for our otp so at work i texted her "give me an nct plot" and she was like "make johnny work at panera bread." so this fic is for her specifically.
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> so johnny works at [panera bread](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Panera_Bread) (panera bread is like a "fast food" bakery/cafe in the united states. pretty sure it's only in the US and maybe two locations in canada).
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> i cant believe i wrote ten working at hot topic. i feel like im too old to be writing shit like this i'm laughing. but hey if you want a job and someone's willing to give you one... you take what you can get. no offense to hot topic i guess. i shop there sometimes FUCK.
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>  i feel like panera bread au could turn into a really stupid series. maybe.

Johnny has worked in this fast food bakery for about three years now—all his coworkers being people he’s grown fairly close to and customers he’s become less than strangers with. Mark forgets to refill the sweet tea almost everyday, and Dongyoung never gets off his ass about _everything_. (“Why is your hat crooked?” “Stop stealing cups.” “Don’t eat the stale bread, please.” “Your customer service voice sounds too forced.” “Don’t smile like that.” “Why are there forks in the register? Oh my god, is it used?”) Yuta never lets you live anything down or lets anything go, and Hansol responds to every situation like he’d rather kill you with his bare hands, albeit passively. Yoonoh never does anything valuable, and Johnny can’t remember the last time he went on a break when he was supposed to.

Johnny doesn’t hate his job, and he doesn’t hate the people he works with—but it’s thirty three minutes into his first shift of the week, and he’s already almost killed Mark with a stack of dirty trays, fell in the kitchen, and threw a half eaten blueberry muffin at Yuta for saying his head looked big in his hat. And Yoonoh “accidentally” let all of these things slip to their manager Dongyoung (who made sure to keep his eyes on Johnny ten full minutes after the fact). But he doesn’t hate it. He doesn’t. The food is decent, it’s fun working with his friends when they aren’t at each other’s throats, and the uppity customers aren’t _always_ Satan reincarnated. 

But there is one problem (if you discount everything else and consider it to be just a lovely fact of retail).

“There he is,” Hansol says absently, restocking the glass display case with newly baked focaccia bread cut into perfect rectangles. Okay, maybe Yoonoh is only good for one thing: skillfully using a knife. Honestly, maybe that isn’t a good thing.

“Who?” Johnny turns to Hansol, undoing the ribbons of his apron to retie it snugly. “And your hair looks stupid in that hat.” Johnny hears Yuta bark out a laugh from the food preparation station, setting up an annoyed customer’s tray with their order. 

“Your regular you eye-fuck,” Hansol replies, flipping Yuta off before continuing arranging the baked goods neatly with plastic gloved hands. 

“ _Fuck!_ ” Johnny whispers (loudly), body jolting to turn towards the large windows of the front to see if he can make out the familiar face. Dongyoung yells a scolding “Language!” at Johnny from the drink station (refilling the tea because, again, Mark never remembers to do it). Johnny guesses he’s thankful he’s working the deadest shift of the day.

He spots him, dressed always stylishly, walking the small expanse of the parking lot between the mall entrance and the Panera Bread. He’s getting closer, just enough for Johnny to make out his perfect nose and maybe a twinkle of the piercings on his ears. Johnny doesn’t even know his name, just that he works at that goddamned Hot Topic in the mall. And he only knows this because Yoonoh is friends with his coworker, apparently. Yoonoh knows his name, but he refuses to tell Johnny, and it’s just a _whole lot of fun_ every single fucking time this customer comes in while his entire work team stands there and watches him make a fool of himself.

“Calm down,” Yoonoh says in passing to Johnny as he walks in front of the register counter, untying his apron and draping it over the back of an abandoned chair. “Going on break, boss,” Yoonoh calls from the corner, taking a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket.

“For the love of God, please keep those in your car or in the breakroom, Yoonoh,” Dongyoung reprimands, referring to Yoonoh’s cigarettes. 

“At least I took the apron off, mom,” Yoonoh replies as he takes a stick out of the carton. “You should calm down, too,” he says, pointing his cigarette at Dongyoung. He just rolls his eyes.

“He’s almost at the door,” Hansol warns Johnny, finishing up the display case as if this were just a normal conversation topic. Well, maybe it is now.

“Shut the fuck up.” Johnny ducks immediately behind the counter, crouching on the tiled floor, palms on his knees. His heart reaches his throat when he hears the jingle of bells at the door, signaling it’s been opened. 

“Dude, chill out. It was just Yoonoh leaving,” Hansol says to Johnny’s look of now wrecked remnants of the composure he had left. 

“Where is he?” Johnny asks, referring to the customer he’s hiding from. Johnny feels like a fucking fool. Maybe he is. He doesn’t even know _why_ he’s hiding; Johnny talks to this customer almost everyday—he comes in _regularly_. Maybe because Johnny has only recently realized he’s attracted to Stupidly Good Looking Hot Topic Employee, and his brain has degenerated to that of a fifteen year old’s. God, he feels like he’s a freshman in highschool all over again.

“He’s about to open the door—.” Shit. “Oh, wait, Yoonoh’s distracting him.” Yoonoh is good for something for real this time. Thank God.

Hansol looks down at Johnny on the floor. “You’re the only one on register right now. You can’t hide.”

Uh, well he’s going to fucking try.

“You know how to work the register. You can take my place for, like, two minutes,” Johnny explains from the floor. He can tell he’s not being very convincing. Hansol doesn’t say anything for a good moment (probably for passive aggressive emphasis), stupid billed Panera Hat casting a shadow across his features making him look ominous.

“No.”

Okay, maybe Johnny hates his coworkers a little bit.

The door bells jingle again.

“Where’s Seulgi?” His voice is quick. Johnny is getting desperate.

“On lunch.”

“Taeil?” Sooyoung? Yerim? Jeno? _Anyone?_

“He never works this shift because of class. That’s why _we_ work this shift.” Fuck Taeil for taking morning classes.

“ _What the fuck!_ ” Johnny says hoarsely under his breath, trying to keep his voice at a polite volume (but failing). 

“You know,” Hansol’s fake customer service smile now plastered on his face as the embodiment of Johnny’s demise undoubtedly makes his way to the counter, “even if you stall, he’s still walking at the same pace.” The words come out scary through Hansol’s forced, tight lipped smile. “You’re just making your time run out; you’re not stalling spacetime or him.”

“Fuck, just get out of here,” Johnny says into his hands, raking them down his face.

Hansol turns his head abruptly. “Hi, how are you?” he directs to someone who is _not_ Johnny. 

“Good, thanks for asking. How are you?” a familiar voice flows from above the counter. Johnny wants to die.

“Sorry, our cashier is having an issue. He’ll be right up.” There’s an awkward pause, and Hansol looks to the floor at Johnny expectantly. Fuck. And fuck Hansol. He walks away shortly, kicking Johnny in the ankle (not hard, of course) on his way back to the kitchen. Well, it’s now or fucking never, and Johnny can feel Dongyoung staring at him from Hell for being such a shitty employee. 

Johnny gathers what little gall he can to pull himself up, hands gripping the counter as he does so. The rise feels like it lasts an awkward eternity, but half a second later he is greeted with a curious face of knit eyebrows and questioning half-smile, nose crinkling in the process. 

”Welcome to Bread—.” _FUCK._ A loud cackle from Yuta is heard from the kitchen, and Johnny’s soul deteriorates within him. Time feels as if it freezes there and as if he’s almost about to enter a dissociative episode as the remaining wisps of life drain from his eyes and face. He can see Yoonoh through the window, still smoking on his break, witnessing every unfortunate second of Johnny’s downfall with dead eyes and a lifeless, but smug smile. He absolutely fucking hates his job.

This is it. This is the end, Johnny thinks. He’s going to have to quit Panera Bread and move back into his mom’s house and never leave again and drop out of university and die alone.

But the customer laughs. It’s friendly and soft, and Johnny wishes the setting were anything but this. The bells of the door tinkle against the glass—a warning signal from the Universe, Johnny assumes, as he sees Yoonoh walk through the door with that shit eating grin. Fuck Yoonoh. Johnny doesn’t even know exactly why, but fuck him.

Johnny snaps out of it and corrects himself—saying it properly this time—and tries to take the customer’s order. But he ignores Johnny’s question and poses one of his own.

“What were you doing down there?” It’s suspicious. He squints his dark eyes, and Johnny catches Yoonoh in the tiled entrance way making an obscene gesture with his fist and mouth, and this is the moment Johnny decides Yoonoh is officially on his shitlist.

His eyes shift, averting looking at the customer’s mouth. “Uh, tying my shoes,” he manages to get out. It’s a lie. The customer can probably tell.

“Both of them, huh?” His voice is playful, coquettish even, (still suspicious) and Johnny prays to God his face isn’t as red as he feels it might be. But he knows he’ll hear an entire fucking recount of this situation later from his ugly coworkers (namely Yoonoh and possibly Yuta).

“Y—yeah,” Johnny falters. “What can I get for you?” he quickly changes the subject—he needs to end this situation immediately before it gets worse. The customer’s lip quirks up and Johnny wants to ask what exactly is funny—but, really, Johnny knows it’s him. The door jingles again with Donghyuck coming in for his shift, and Mark drops an entire stack of trays straight to the floor with a loud crash, creating too much noise right as the customer says his order. _Are you fucking kidding me?_

“I’m sorry, what?” Johnny asks, hating that this has to last even longer now, feeling extremely on edge. The commotion is noisy—Dongyoung is being passive aggressively loud, and Donghyuck is putting Mark’s ass on blast while he helps him clean up the mess (“I have to do this right when I walk into the door? Christ, Mark, thanks.” “Shut up and help me, dickhead.”), trays, plates, and silverware grating in his ears. Nothing is going right, and Johnny wishes the Universe would just let him have one good, not humiliating or uncomfortable moment with Hot Topic Guy From Across the Parking Lot. (“Maybe if you asked him out,” he can remember Yuta telling him. Yeah, well, that’s not happening. Especially not to-fucking-day).

The customer presses his hand against the counter and leans in closer, and Johnny can only move forward instinctively. But the customer doesn’t even speak much louder.

“I’ll have two caffe lattes to go,” he says. His mouth is so pretty and delicate, and Johnny can feel the flames of Hell traveling from the floor up his spine.

“Two?” He didn’t mean to ask that out loud—as if this customer couldn’t possibly be buying this for a friend or that, hey, he just maybe wanted fucking two, and that Johnny’s brain immediately thought it was for a significant other. _Please don't assume I'm curious if you're dating anyone._ (He is.)

“I owe my coworker for paying for my piercing.” The customer backs away into his original, safe distance away from the counter. Johnny catches the devilish glint in his eyes. “So I guess I’m stuck buying his coffee for the next two months.”

“I didn’t mean for that question to come out weird,” Johnny laughs awkwardly. Just let him die.

“No, it’s okay.” His laugh is so light. “I usually only buy for myself, so you weren’t used to it.”

“So, you have a new piercing? I don’t see anything different,” Johnny comments, _trying_ to be normal—but maybe coming off too observant. Is it weird to notice that kind of thing? Probably. 

The customer raises his eyebrows for a split second before biting his bottom lip, trying to stop a smile. “It’s not visible,” is all he says. _Oh._ Johnny looks to the ceiling and then to the counter, searching desperately for something to get him out of this, looking for God to kill him, or something equally desirable. Johnny tries to force the image of this stranger’s pierced cock out of his mind. It could be his belly button. It could be. Johnny doesn't have to assume the worst (best).

“Uh, oh,” he finally says. _Fuck._

“So, my coffee?” This guy is absolutely evil. Johnny still wants to ask him out (eventually, he swears).

“Oh, right, yeah.”

 

* * *

 

“You can’t sit in the bathroom your whole shift,” Joohyun yells into the men’s bathroom. Why couldn’t Taeil have been the Manager of the Day today? He would’ve let him sit in here. And, once again, Johnny’s working another dead shift—but this time at night. No one’s even here. Does it matter if he’s missing from the register for seven minutes? Fifty? A hundred twenty?

“But I have a problem,” Johnny yells from the stall. The bathroom light flickers above his head. 

“Your problem will be me firing you if you don’t get your ass behind that register.” He can hear Joohyun stomp herself back to the front of the store, the bathroom light flickering a few more times before going out completely as the door swings shut. Great.

 

 

 

“How’s our teenage disaster today?” Hansol asks Johnny, elbows pressed into the counter with his chin resting in his hands.

“Fuck you.” Johnny is almost twenty-two years old, thank you very much. He can hear clearly “Then act like it” ringing in his head in Mark’s voice. Maybe Figment-Mark is right.

“Just ask him out. He won’t bite.”

“Yeah, he will,” Yuta breaks into the conversation, assuming the same position as Hansol on the counter. If Dongyoung was here today they would not hear the end of this.

“I mean, only if you ask him to,” Yoonoh says as he walks behind the register counter on his way to the front to smoke, Johnny assumes.

“I don’t even know his name because none of you will tell me. Fuck all of you, by the way.” Why does everyone know Hot Topic Customer Johnny Maybe Wants to be More Than Friends With except him?

“We like fucking with you,” Yuta admits. Hansol laughs.

“Obviously.” There’s a pause. “Just tell me his name.” The men’s bathroom door is pushed open, and Mark and Donghyuck enter into the conversation, flicking sink water off their hands at each other as they make their way to the Support (Unsupport) Group gathered around Johnny.

Marks interrupts, wiping his wet hands onto his apron. “What are you talking about?” 

“Johnny’s regular,” Yuta says over his shoulder. Donghyuck knits his eyebrows together—he’s the newest member of the team, so he’s not entirely sure how things are around here yet.

“The one with the earrings who works at Hot Topic,” Mark says to him. “He stares Johnny down when he comes in.” 

Donghyuck’s eyes light up in recognition. “ _Oh_ , that guy is my neighbor.” God, even Donghyuck knows who he is and still not Johnny.

“What’s his name then?” Johnny is almost pleading Donghyuck with his eyes, but all the older boys of the group just look at him expressionless, and Donghyuck decides it’s best if he doesn’t answer. 

“It’d be kind of weird to know his name before he tells you,” Hansol says as he pushes himself up from the counter.

“But he knows my name.”

Yuta rolls his eyes. “You wear a fucking name tag.” Why is nobody ever on Johnny’s side in this stupid bakery. Aren’t bakeries full of warm, happy employees who love bread and not being gigantic dicks who love watching their fellow coworker suffer? Apparently not this one. 

“Just ask him now,” Yoonoh suggests absently, digging in his pocket for his lighter.

“He isn’t here, dickhead,” Johnny shoots at him. Yoonoh only points to the window, unlit cigarette between his teeth as he continues fishing for the lighter in his sweatshirt (Johnny is surprised Joohyun hasn’t gotten onto him for wearing it yet). Everyone turns to look out the glass. There Hot Topic Guy is, making his way across the asphalt under the lit parking lot street lights, but this time he’s with someone else. They’re dressed similarly—in fashion sense, anyway—and Johnny’s regular seems to be talking to him, hands moving as he talks and mouth open and smiling. The other doesn’t seem to engage much, hands deep in his jacket pockets, but he still has a small smile on his soft face. Yoonoh makes his way to the front doors, exiting and sitting at one of the tables to smoke. He waves at the both of them, and they stop briefly to chat with him.

“Who’s with him?” Johnny tries to sound like he’s not _entirely_ interested, but he definitely is.

“That’s his boyfriend,” Donghyuck speaks before anyone else gets the chance. Johnny’s chest closes in on itself for a split second, and his hands become clammy. Well, fuck!

Yuta slaps Donghyuck in the back of the head. “Shit, are you trying to kill him?” Donghyuck is laughing hard enough for the few customers in the cafe to look at them, and Johnny might want to wring his neck.

Yuta continues, “He works with that guy. His name is Taeyong. Yoonoh knows him, too. Well, sort of.” 

“Thank God,” Johnny lets out. He’s (embarrassingly) relieved. “So, they aren’t dating?” He is a little hopeless, probably.

“I don’t think he’s his type.”

“What’s his type?” Johnny wants to know. He wants to fucking know, and he’ll throw all his shame into the garbage at this point. Fuck it! Absolutely fuck it.

Yuta gives Johnny a smug once-over. Yuta better not be fucking with him. Not like Johnny would be surprised if he were.

“You know there’s a Starbucks in the mall, right?” Hansol tells him.

Johnny doesn’t see where Hansol is going with this. “And?”

“ _And_ that it’s right across from the Hot Topic,” Yuta finishes. Johnny just squints, confused. Everyone should just start speaking it riddles from now on, because it sure seems like that’s exactly what they want to do.

“And that their coffee is better than ours. God, how dense are you?” Yuta gives Johnny the dirtiest look. “That guy comes here almost everyday to order coffee during a time he knows you’re working for coffee not as good as the Starbucks. An entire parking lot away.” 

Johnny’s adrenaline kicks in, and he can feel his hands and voice shaking. “If you’re lying, I swear to fucking God,” Johnny threatens. He glances up quickly, and the customer is almost to the door, looking curiously at the group gathered at the register counter. “Shit, get out of here. We look suspicious.” Johnny can hear a ‘because we are’ from one of them as they all go back to their stations, trying to appear as if they were busy. 

The customer enters alone, Taeyong staying outside to sit at the table with Yoonoh to smoke with hm. He greets Johnny immediately with a bright smile and wave of a small hand, bracelets sliding the down his wrist as he does so.

“Hi,” the regular speaks up, his voice being the only good energy Johnny has heard all evening.

“Welcome to Bread!” Yuta yells loudly from the food prep station at Ten, Hansol hitting him in the shoulder because it’s _so fucking funny_ to make fun of Johnny, and Ten tries to hold back a smile by pressing his lips together tightly. Johnny could kill Yuta.

“Hi,” Johnny mimics dumbly, ignoring Yuta and Hansol.

“You’re not going to ask me what you can get for me?” It would sound rude in any other retail situation, but his voice is always flirtatious. 

“Uh, sorry—,” Johnny tries to apologize, but he’s cut off before he can finish.

“I’m Ten.” 

“Excuse me?” He’s ‘ten’? Ten _what_? Ten minutes late to the shitshow? Ten minutes early to Johnny’s demise? Ten times out of his league? Yes, thank you, Johnny knows that.

“You’re Johnny,” he gestures to Johnny, pointing specifically at his name tag. Johnny nods dumbly. “I’m Ten.” 

Johnny asks stupidly, misreading the situation, “Uh, what can I get for you, Ten?” Johnny’s head is full of static and air. 

The customer throws his head back to laugh, showing off a smooth neck. “You’re cute,” he says finally. Johnny could die. He could fall to the floor right now. He doesn’t even know what to say. He’s not even sure why Ten, apparently, is telling him this.

“Fuck,” Johnny says under his breath. What’s going on? Is he being pranked? Is this all a set up? Johnny turns his head right, then left, spotting Yuta and Hansol standing in the far reaches of the food preparation station watching everything with shitty smiles on their faces. Ten laughs again. Johnny needs a cigarette, and he doesn’t even smoke. Ten is coming onto him, that’s what this is. And suddenly every conversation in the last two days with the worst employees imaginable comes full circle.

“Have you been in on this the whole time?” Johnny asks Ten, finally coming to a realization.

“What? Been in on what?” Ten sounds genuinely confused, but Yuta and Hansol laugh from the corner. Johnny removes his hat to push his hair back before setting the cap back on his head out of stress, and Ten sputters out a laugh, ruining his ruse. 

“What time do you get off work?” Ten pulls out his phone to look at the time. “I just got off work, so.” What? What did he say?

“Huh?” Johnny can hear Mark groan from the drink station (actually remembering to fill the tea today!), and Ten just smiles. Can everyone who works here cut him some slack—any slack at all?

“What time do you get off work?” Ten asks again, slowly this time, a pause between each word. 

“Ten…” Johnny trails off, still completely unsure of what the fuck is going on.

“Yes?” 

“I meant I get off at ten p.m.,” he replies nervously. His voice sounds so small. 

“Oh!” he laughs again. “That’s in, like, an hour and a half, so I’ll wait for you.” This is crazy.

“What?”

“He’s asking you out, you dumbass.” Yuta yells at him from his corner, with Hansol snickering as he cleans the soup warmer. Johnny is so thankful that the noise from the kitchen is loud enough to drown Yuta’s voice out from any customer hearing him. (And so is Joohyun, who yells from the kitchen that Yuta’s lucky she likes him enough to keep him.)

“Oh, uh, okay. Sure.” Holy shit.

“Nice.” Ten does a double thumbs up. “I’ll be back at ten,” he says, turning to leave.

“Wait,” Johnny adds quickly, causing Ten to stop mid turn. “But I look like a Panera Bread employee.” He doesn’t want to go out with someone in his work clothes, but he doesn’t definitely doesn’t have time to change—he doesn’t want to pass up this opportunity, even if it was borne of some unfortunate, humiliating circumstances. 

“I look like a Hot Topic employee. It’s okay, really. We can both be embarrassed together.” As _if_ Ten looked embarrassing dressed the way he is. Johnny wonders what Ten wears that he would consider not embarrassing. 

“Are you sure it’s okay?” 

“Would I walk half a mile three times a week for two months to order coffee from here if it wasn’t okay?”

“Right…” Johnny pauses. “Right,” he repeats, but more sure this time.

“Good. I’ll be back,” he waves.

Maybe Johnny doesn’t hate his job.

**Author's Note:**

> writing this was really challenging because i write fic for another group. im really used to that group and have extremely specific characterizations for them x___x and i don't ever write plots like this? so it was so hard for me. all the fics ive ever written have been extremely different from this. i like writing weird shit, but this is my first "normal" thing. and since im not used to writing nct members and not used to writing a (plotless) setting like this like i just. fucked up.
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> but i hope you didnt hate this shitfest T___T i want to write nct fic that's more My Style like my other fandom's fics.... bc i feel like they're way better than this :( i also get really lazy at the end god........
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> comments and stuff r appreciated T__T


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